


beauty is truly in the eye of the tiger

by coffeewordangel



Series: tumblr drabbles [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Model AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:31:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeewordangel/pseuds/coffeewordangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>flower_crown asked for model au ziam over on tumblr. Title from Handsome Boy Modeling School because I think I'm funny. </p><p>Come prompt me or say hi over on <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/empty-altars">tumblr</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beauty is truly in the eye of the tiger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flower_crown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flower_crown/gifts).



Zayn has built a career on subverted expectations and a carefully crafted persona that has no fucks to give. It’s served him well. He’s been among the most coveted models for three years running and has his pick of campaigns and shows. They’ve lauded him as “The New Breed of Fashion Model,” whatever the hell that means. 

Being actively courted by numerous brands allows Zayn to choose those that interest him. Sometimes that means he likes the photographer or the location, but a lot of times it means that the client wants to do something interesting with his look. His favorites are those that fuck with gender norms. 

All things being equal, Zayn is rather pleased with his life. He’s kept busy and has been all over the world more than once and if he’s secretly a little lonely, that’s just between him and his right hand. So of course when everything gets turned upside down, Louis fucking Tomlinson is the harbinger.

“Zayn!” Louis greets at entirely too loud a volume for a time prior to noon.

“What,” Zayn grumbles back.

“I have good news and bad news, which would you like first?”

Zayn scrunches his eyes closed against the encroaching sunlight. “Good?”

“You can come on our lads weekend after all,” Louis announces.

For being Zayn’s manager and best friend, Louis cares much more about Harry Styles’ schedule than Zayn’s when planning get-aways. It’s annoying. This latest excursion was planned right in the middle of his Burberry shoot.

“Okay. Care to tell me why?”

“Ehm.” Louis clears his throat. “They cancelled on you? Decided to go in a different direction.”

Fine. Zayn knew that booking him was outside of the box for that brand, but he’d been looking forward to seeing what they had planned. It’s no skin off his nose, though. Knowing Louis, he’s sure his manager got him a cancellation fee.

“Alright,” Zayn says. “You lot can buy me a drink when we get to Vegas.”

It’s one campaign out of a dozen. He’ll be fine. It’s fine.

It’s less fine three weeks later when two more clients cancel on him to ‘go in another direction’. Zayn snarls into the phone when Louis gives him the news. He knows this industry is about what’s newest and hottest but he thought he had a little more time before he had to give up his throne to some wide-eyed newbie.

“Are they all going with the same model?” Zayn demands. He has to know. 

There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone before Louis answers. “Yeah.”

“Who is it?" 

"Liam Payne,” Louis says. “He’s fairly new to fashion shoots. Did some catalog work when he was younger.”

Catalog. Ugh. “Find me some work, Lou. It’s what I pay you for.”

“On it, boss.”

The second he hangs up, Zayn is on his laptop googling Liam Payne. The search results confuse him. He’s being replaced by some floppy haired puppy child sporting some truly unfortunate plaid and khaki fashion combo? What the fuck. This is fucking unacceptable.

It ends up being a good thing that he’s on a forced vacation. He fractured his metacarpal punching a wall.

\---

As small and incestuous as the fashion world is, Zayn doesn’t actually meet Liam Payne until Milan Fashion Week. He doesn’t do runway very often, knows he’s too short for it really, but a friend is launching her new men’s line and called in a favor. The stacked heels he has on help some with the height issue.

“Zayn Malik?" 

Zayn spins and comes face to face with a man who hits every single requirement Zayn has for a partner. He’s gorgeous. Zayn wants to lick him all over. Damn.

Instead he raises an eyebrow coolly. "Yes?”

“Liam Payne,” the man introduces himself. “I’m a big fan of your work.”

What. _This_ is Liam Payne? What happened to the floppy haired puppy? Zayn is having a difficult time conflating the two. Any lingering annoyance about losing out to this man fades because honestly, Zayn would book him for everything ever just to have a chance to stare at him all day. 

“Are you?” he manages, willing himself to remain calm. A semi would really ruin the line of the satin trousers he’s rocking.

“Yeah,” Liam says. “Um. The shoot with the red couch?”

Liam ducks his head and blushes slightly. Zayn is fucking _charmed_ and it takes him a moment to twig to which shoot he’s referring to. It wasn’t a campaign, just him and Harry fucking around with a camera in a warehouse, really. The photos are mostly Zayn draped across a deep red chaise longue in silk and lace lingerie, eyes smoky and lips a red to match the chaise. He’d kept his stubble, had liked the juxtaposition with the lingerie and make-up.

It’s definitely the sexiest he’s ever felt and the thought of Liam seeing the photos, possible getting off to them, makes him hot all over. Zayn licks his lips and throws caution to the wind, leaning in to brush against Liam’s chest. 

“Come find me after,” Zayn demands in a husky whisper, lips kissing against the shell of Liam’s ear.

He pulls away to find Liam flushed and wrecked, eyes dark and hooded. It’s an excellent look for him. Zayn tamps down his desire and winks at him before turning and walking away. If he swings his hips enticingly, Liam is the only one around to notice.

\---

Zayn’s back in street clothes when Liam tracks him down, ripped skinny jeans and black leather jacket worn like armor. Liam watches him take a drag off his cigarette before settling against the brick wall next to him. Zayn holds out the cigarette and instead of taking it from him, Liam just leans in to take a drag, lips brushing warm and firm against Zayn’s fingers.

Zayn clenches his jaw against the shiver that threatens to roll down his spine.

Tension builds between them until Zayn finally flicks the cigarette away and reaches out to drag Liam forward. Liam smells divine, some combination of expensive scents that Zayn can’t quite place, and he kisses even better. He curls his tongue against Zayn’s in a hot, slick slide and Zayn can’t help the whimper building in the back of his throat. 

“God, you’re hot,” Zayn murmurs reverently.

Liam moans and palms Zayn’s ass, dragging him impossibly closer. “Shut up,” he whispers harshly. “I can’t even look at you. That face is just unfair.”

Zayn laughs, verging on hysterical. He knows what he wants to do and it is such a bad idea. The back of the building is deserted for now and all the paps are inside or out front, but that doesn’t mean they won’t get caught. He really should take Liam back to his hotel, but the thought of arranging transport when he’s like this feels like an impossible task.

Instead he shoves Liam against the brick and sinks to his knees. The pavement is filthy and tiny pebbles dig into the skin of his exposed knees. None of that matters in the moment, though he’ll probably regret it later. Right now he’s more focused on shoving Liam’s jeans and boxers down far enough to get at his cock.

Zayn moans helplessly when Liam is finally exposed. He’s _perfect_. Thick and long and flushed the same pretty pink as his lips and Zayn’s mouth waters. He wastes no time swallowing him down, sinking down steadily until his nose brushes the dark patch of hair at the base. Liam makes a choked sound and reaches out to thread his long fingers through Zayn’s hair.

Ordinarily Zayn doesn’t like anyone messing with his hair. Right now, though, he just wants Liam to pull and tug, use it as a handle to fuck into Zayn’s throat and wreck him. He asks without vocalizing it, pulling off and dragging Liam back into his throat by his hips. Liam catches on quickly, taking over with no hesitation. 

Above him, Liam slides the hand not tangled in Zayn’s hair under his own shirt to play with his nipples. The thin cotton drags up to reveal flat, muscled abs. Zayn blinks away the tears collecting in the corner of his eyes for a better look. Finally, with a filthy twist of fingers against his left nipple, Liam’s hand clenches tighter in Zayn’s hair as he comes down his throat.

It’s so hot Zayn’s not even mad about the lack of warning. He shoves a hand down his jeans to wrap around himself, stroking a handful of times before coming in his pants like a damn teenager. His head rests against Liam’s thick, muscular thigh and Zayn sucks in deep breaths that scrape against his raw throat. 

“Fuck,” Liam says after a long moment of silence.

Zayn laughs, wincing slightly. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Don’t suppose you want to come back to mine for round two? Flight out isn’t until tomorrow morning.”

“Yes,” Liam agrees quickly. 

It turns out they’re on the same flight back to London. They defile the tiny bathroom in first class thoroughly, laughing like children when the flight attendant glares at them as they tumble back out in a disheveled mess.

After six months, Liam doesn’t renew the lease on his flat and moves into the house that’s entirely too big for Zayn alone. They adopt a dog together and argue about his name. They share the walk-in closet filled with designer clothing, but generally end up in trackies and t-shirts. They have creative, athletic sex in every single room of the house, but their favorite is the private balcony overlooking the garden.


End file.
